Wanted
by TheLittleImp
Summary: There is a mansion down the road from Wayne Manor. For the most part its owns, the Drakes are away and it stands empty. But now it is silent for a different reason. The Drakes are murdered and Bruce is shocked to learn his neighbors had a son and now that child is his responsibility. He wouldn't mind watching out for the kid, but no one knows where he is.
1. Chapter 1

Wanted

Bruce couldn't believe it, but it was there right on the TV. Jack and Cathie Drake had been murdered in their home in the middle of the night. Jack was the founder of Drake Industries, a prominent company in Gotham and around the world. Bruce had talked to the couple only last night at a dinner party.

The Drakes' were the closest thing Bruce had to neighbors. They had moved to Gotham four years before, under what circumstance only a few knew. Wayne Manor was on the outskirts of Gotham and few people lived out there. The Drake Mansion was one of the few homes in their area, mostly because it was cheaper to live in other parts of the city.

Bruce wondered if the couple had any family. They had always seemed a little off to him, but he wasn't one to judge. He ran around Gotham's underworld at all hours of the night, dressed like a giant bat.

The Drakes had been circus performers, a fact they hadn't wanted anyone to know. Dick had been excited to hear the news at first. He had thought he had found some of his own people in the heartless and fast paced world that was the City of Crime. The opposite had been the truth however. They had been horrified to learn that anyone knew of their past and wanted the whole thing hushed up.

Bruce thought of the look on Dick's face when Cathie had asked him, not so nicely, to not talk about the circus or anything pertaining to the subject. Bruce couldn't help being mad at the woman. No one talked to his son like that.

It didn't matter much whether Bruce liked them or not because the Drakes were always going on some trip. It could be a business meeting in Japan or a two week vacation cruise off the coast of Brazil. They were gone and their large house would stand empty. That was fine with Bruce. He couldn't have nosey neighbors poking around, asking what he did with his spare time and why he, Dick and Jason were more often than not bruised and a little beaten up.

Dick and Jason came into the kitchen just then and took their places at the breakfast table. They had just celebrated Jason first birthday at the Manor a week before. He was twelve now and full of fire. He seemed to think he knew everything and it was his way or the highway, but that was Bruce's place, so Jason was often overruled. Bruce understood how Jason felt. When he had been that age he and Alfred butted heads on a regular basis. They still did, but they had found common ground. Bruce was sure he could find that ground with Jason and his stubbornness.

Dick was his usual cheerful self. Bruce couldn't understand how the thirteen year old could always be so happy, but that cheerfulness brought so much joy into a house that would otherwise have been a dark place. Bruce doubt he would have taken Jason in if he hadn't taken Dick in. The acrobat had taught him patience, which he needed to learn before he could take on Jason's wild spirit.

Dick glanced at the TV on the counter and his face fell. "I wonder why they were killed," he said thoughtfully.

"I bet it was something illegal," Jason said shortly. He wasn't being cold hearted. In Gotham when someone got killed most people assumed that it was because of a bad business choice. Jason was a Gotham Amite to the bone. He thought like one which was usually more cynical and less trusting.

"Could have been a robbery," Dick suggested.

Suddenly the doorbell rang. Bruce went to answer it. Alfred wouldn't hear of Bruce answering the door. It was his job, but the butler was visiting family in England and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. Bruce didn't know how the three of them got along without Alfred.

Bruce opened the door and found Commissioner Jim Gordon standing in the doorway. He was surprised, he was sure Gordon would be down the road at the crime scene for hours still.

"Hello, Jim. What can I do for you?" Bruce said. He often wondered if Gordon saw through his little show. The idea was a little terrifying. The man would be required to take him and his sons in to custody if he never found out, that is if he didn't already know who the Knight of Gotham was.

"Hello, Bruce," the Commissioner said. His voice was laced with exhaustion and his eyes were red from lack of sleep. Being the police commissioner in a city like Gotham was no small job and it took its toll. "You hear about the Drakes?"

Bruce nodded and stepped aside to let the man in. "Saw it on the news." A thought came to Bruce. He was Batman, he had thought the safest place would be close to Wayne Manor, yet his neighbors had been killed. He would have done anything to protect the Drakes, if he had known that they were in danger. Had they deaths been painful? Could he have done something? Bruce told himself to stop. There was nothing he could have done, so he shouldn't beat himself over what he hadn't been able to do. That was something he had learned his first year as Batman. It was best just to think about the lives he had saved, like Dick and Jason for example.

"Were you aware that the Drakes had a son?" Gordon asked shortly.

Bruce was again surprised. Twice in one morning, that had to be some kind of record. "No I didn't." He had been to their house more than once. There was no pictures of a kid, no toys, no loving talk from the Drakes about how proud they were of their child and most importantly no child. What kind of detective was he if he didn't even know that his neighbors had a son? "Was he killed as well?" The image of three lifeless bodies came unbidden into his mind. The guilt that he had been trying to ignore came back double to what it had been the first time.

"That's the problem, we can't find him," the Commissioner said shortly. A deep frown was cut into his face. He pushed his thick, black glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "The only reason we even know they were killed was because today is the day the maid comes to clean."

Bruce couldn't help, but wonder why he was being told this. He wasn't a cop and didn't have any business hearing this. It was after all an open case. "Do you think whoever killed the Drakes took their son?" he asked. He hoped their son was at a friend's house or visit family. There was rather a glaring question remaining. How had Bruce not seen a kid running around? He knew from personal expectance that kids weren't quiet and didn't stay in the house all day or at least his boys didn't.

"I don't know," Gordon said sadly. He shook his head as if he was shaking off a fog. He really needed to take a break. He couldn't think clearly without at least a few hours of sleep. "I'm sorry. You're probably wondering what this has to do with you."

Bruce nodded. "That would be helpful. Why don't we get some coffee while we talk?" he suggested.

The Commissioner stifled a yawn. "That sounds good."

The two men when to the kitchen. Dick and Jason were eating breakfast and talking in between bites. Alfred had thoroughly broken them of their habit of talking with their mouths full. He couldn't stand bad manners. When someone did something he thought was rude his right eyebrow would shot up and remain that way until the unfortunate offender wilted in fear under the butler's gaze.

"Hello, Commissioner," Dick said politely.

"Hi," Jason said from his oatmeal bowl.

"Good morning, boys," Jim said taking a set. He had known both boys for years. Dick, he'd meet that terrible night at the circus and Jason had gotten picked up by one of his officer for breaking and entering, not to mention resisting arrested. That was right before Bruce had found the boy in the same alley where he'd lost his parents fifteen years prier.

Jim took a drink of the coffee Bruce had set in front of him. "Thanks. I'm going to get right to the point. The Drakes' lawyer got a hold of me this morning, to tell me that upon the couples' death he was to open their will. He found that the Drakes left everything to you on the condition you take care of their son, Timothy. They didn't have any family, so.…," the Commissioner let the sentence hang.

Bruce was shocked. People, he hardly knew and who hardly knew him were just leaving their son, who no one could find, in his care. Were they out of their minds? Well, he couldn't ask them so, first things first, find Timothy. Hopefully he was alive. Bruce would get Lucius Fox to take care of the Drake Estate and everything that came with it.

Bruce would get over his surprise, no shock was a better description of how he felt, later. Now he had a whole mess to deal with. "Does anyone have any idea who might have killed the Drakes? Have you talked to the maid? When was the last time she saw Timothy?"

Gordon nodded. "She said he was at home two week ago. She heard him and his parents fighting. Afterwards, she heard Mrs. Drake say something about being sick of his circus ideas, circus mouth and circus blood. We had the maid go through the house to see if anything was missing. She said the only things gone were Timothy's suitcase and some of his clothes. She also told us that in the four years she's worked there she has seen the kid maybe three times. She has no idea where he goes, but he's almost never at home. Not during Christmas, in the summer or around his birthday," Jim said, shaking his head. "I hope you won't mind coming over to the Drake's? There is some things we'll need you for."

"Of course not," Bruce answered. "Let me get my coat." He got up and left to get his coat. He wondered why Timothy was never at home. Sure, he had 'friends' who sent their kids away, to family, or boarding school, but they would bring their kids home sometimes or talk about them. Why hadn't the Drakes? Where they so caught up in their own lives they had forgotten to make time for what should have been the most important life to them? There was no greater gift than the love of a child. To watch them grow and to see the person they were becoming was amazing. Sometimes the thought of his sons was the only thing that gave him the strength to fight hard enough to come back from Crime Alley in one piece. How could any parent not want to be part of their children's' lives was something Bruce would never understand.

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A few hours later Bruce and the Commissioner were still trying to find some clue that would tell them were Timothy might be. Bruce had been given a pair of rubber gloves when they had started looking though the Drakes' papers. The last thing the police needed was some naive CEO destroying evidence.

"Jim, I think I found something," Bruce said from where he was sitting at Jack's desk. There were no personal items on the large piece of furniture, come to think of it there were almost no personal items anywhere in the house that Bruce had seen.

"What?" Jim asked. He was at Cathie's desk, looking at the papers that were neatly filed in one of the bottom drawers.

"Well, I know falsified documents when I see them," Bruce said and handed Jim a thick file that had fake tax returns, bank statements, and other papers of that kind in it. The Drakes were making more money than they should have been, to the tune of over two million in this year alone.

Gordon didn't look surprised in the least. He saw this kind of thing all the time, usual not in this large amounts, but still, it was nothing new. "Where was all this coming from?" he asked more to himself than Bruce. He quickly flipped through the documents. This was going to be a mess to through it all, but it would get done, by some poor detective whose lot it fell to.

"Well, this could explain why they were killed. I'll get someone on the paper trail and see where it goes," Jim said walking away with the file.

Bruce kept snooping around. In the last, bottom draw, he found a bill from High brook Boarding School. He had heard of the school, it was one of the hardest to get into, most respected prep school in New York State. It also had a reputation for its strike rules and unhackable security system. It was supposedly to keep intruders out, but it also kept the students in. If someone with money had a kid, who they didn't want around, and that had a habit of run off that was the place to send that kid.

Bruce showed the bill to Jim. "Let's hope that's where he's at," Gordon said and pulled out his phone. The number was on the bill and he dialed it. "Hello, this is Commissioner James Gordon with the Gotham police. I'm calling about one of your students, Timothy Drake."

Bruce could tell that the person on the other end of the call was very uncomfortable, when they answered. "We were just about to phone Mr. and Mrs. Drake. We don't know how this happened."

"What happened?" Jim asked.

What had happened? Bruce wondered. Had someone come to the school and taken Timothy. In which case the school wouldn't want anyone to know, it would hurt their reputations and people would find another school to send their children to.

"It's completely unprecedented and the board it not responsible. He destroyed our computer system," the unknown person whinnied.

"Who did?" Jim asked. Was it so hard just to tell him what was going on? Sometime he felt sure people plotted to make his job harder than it already was.

"Timothy Drake, of course. He trashed our computers, spray painted the word 'Prison' on the walls and disappeared from here a week after his parents sent him back," the voice explained. "We didn't inform the Drakes, because we thought he'd return by now."

Sure they did, and the Riddler was going to stop asking riddles. Anyone with half a brain could see the school was trying to cover the whole thing up. They made that clear by not calling the Drakes and telling them their son had runaway the moment it happened. Bruce was impressed with Timothy. He had seen the security system when he'd had one installed at Dick's and Jason's school. He'd thought about buying that system, but had gone with a different one. He was glad he hadn't, since a child could hacked it.

"Have you heard from him in that time?" Gordon asked.

Bruce know the answer before the person on the other end said 'no'. If he'd been in the kid's position he wouldn't have gone back either, not after stray painting the walls.

"I would like to speak to Mr. or Mrs. Drake," the voice said shortly.

"That's not possible," Jim said. "They were murdered last night."

There was a long pause. "I see. If Timothy shows up here we will inform you at once." That was a fancy way of saying. 'It's not our problem.' The person hung up as soon as was appositely possible.

"Great," Jim muttered. How was he supposed to find a kid that had been missing for a week? It didn't help that the school hadn't reported it. If the kid was smart and he clearly was he could be in another part of the country by this time.

Bruce left the office and went up a flight of stair. He walked down a long hall, opening doors as he went. He found what must be Timothy's room at the end of the hall. It was huge, like all the rooms had been so far. This room had a few things that showed it was a kid's room, not many, but a few. Bruce wondered how old Timothy was.

The clothes in the closet were for someone a little smaller than Jason, yet there were no stuffed toys in the room. There was a computer on a desk opposite to the bed. Bruce went over to it and turned it on. The screen saver was a poster for a circus. Hudson's World Traveling Circus to be exact. If Bruce was a kid, who had spent part of his life in the circus, just gotten in a fight with his parents and trashed his school, he would hightail it back to said circus.

A memory came to mind. Dick had been living at the Manor for about a year, when he and Bruce had had their first real fight. They had been shouting at each other, about what Bruce couldn't even remember. Dick had finally shouted that he was going to run away to his real home at the circus. That had scared Bruce more than he liked to admit. The fight that had been roaring ended. Bruce calmly explained to Dick that he was never allowed to run away and he wasn't allowed to say that he was going to run away. He'd watched his son closely for a month after that little episode.

Cathie had said she was sick of hearing about the circus. Maybe Timothy had said he was going back and his parents hadn't taken what he had said seriously or they just didn't care. Either way Bruce was willing to bet that's where Timothy was at. He checked the computer's search history and such enough Timothy had looked up the circus and where they were performing the week he'd run away, which was in Williamsport, Pennsylvania. If Timothy took a bus he would have been there in few days. He was most likely there now.

Some part of Bruce relaxed at knowing that. He didn't even know Timothy and yet he felt the need to take care of him. His parents clearly hadn't been doing a very good job.

Timothy probably didn't know that his parents were dead and it would be hard for him to hear the news. It was hard enough for Bruce and Dick and they hadn't been fighting with their parents at the time of their deaths, but add to that the guilt of not being on good terms. Hurt feelings that would never be resolved would most likely be a heavy burden for Timothy. Bruce had to find him.

The door opened and Jim walked in to the room.

"Find something?" he asked. He had been talking to one of his detective and hadn't noticed that Bruce had disappeared until a few minutes ago. He'd spent those few minutes trying to find Bruce in the large house.

"I think I know where Timothy is." Bruce explained what he had found.

"Well, that's out of my jurisdiction. I'll call the Williamsport police and tell them not to let the circus leave town," Jim said.

Bruce nodded. "I would appreciate that." He was going start to Pennsylvania, before whoever killed the Drakes came after their son. He hoped that didn't happen.


	2. Chapter 2

Tim felt the blood rush to his head, as he went into a handstand. He looked at down at the sawdust covered floor far below. The eleven year old was on the trapeze bar, fifty feet in the air. This was what he loved, to perform and be part of something more than a business. The circus was family, even if his parents had forgotten that.

How he had stood living at that horrible school was beyond him. He could take rules and things like that. It was how the teachers and other kids looked at him that was so unbearable. He had lived in a circus, so what? That didn't make he a gyps freak, a thief or some kind of scum. There was only so much of that people could put up with, besides he learned more teaching himself than he ever did listening to some teacher, who stood at the front of the room, talking about things he already knew.

He was proud of being an acrobat. He wished his father had never inherited all that money from his uncle. That money had changed his parents, until Tim almost couldn't remember what they had been like before. What good was money, if you lost yourself in it?

The changes had started when his father invested the money and had gotten a great deal of profit. His parents had started acting different to the other performers shortly after that they had decided to leave show business. His father had started Drake Industries. Jack had said it was going to be as big as Wayne Enterprises someday.

Tim had liked Gotham at first, but then his parents had started going to parties and coming home not completely sober. Sometimes they wouldn't come home at all. He would sit up for hours waiting for them. The business really took off and they had moved out of the city. By then Tim had become sick of the whole thing and he told his parents that. He would have gone along with it, but they treated everyone like dirt, and they were starting to do the same to him.

He said he wasn't happy in Gotham and wanted to go back to how things use to be. He hadn't cared that they lived in a trailer, that they shopped at thrift stories or that people outside of the circus hadn't liked them. He got part of his wish, anyway. His parents sent him to boarding school after boarding school. Every time he got out.

He hadn't spent his short time in Gotham idly though. He had learned a lot about computers, and most importantly, how to hack them. His dad had hired a man named Ben Kane to hack into competitors' systems and get the jump on their products.

Tim had been lonely and ended up hanging out with Kane before the Drake family moved out of the city. At first the man had told him to get lost, but Tim had had nowhere to get lost to, so he stayed and watched Kane. He learned how to hack systems by watching the older hacker. After a while Ben had gotten used to having him around and even taught him a few tricks of the trade. He had picked up a few new tricks of his own along the way.

Tim had begun to swing back and forth, while he was thinking over the past few years. He was still in a hand stand. He let himself fall forward. At the same time he let go of the bar. He flipped with the motion of his swinging which sent him high into the air. He caught hold of a rope that was part of the rigging that held the big top up. He climbed up it and was soon perched in the scaffolding, completely out of sight.

He could see some of the clowns juggling bowling pins. Mitch was throwing knives at his sister, Kate. Bill, the animal tamer, and his wife, Victoria, were working on an act with the leopard seals and penguins. They had to make sure the seals were fed right before they started because the main diet of seals were penguins, which wouldn't be good for anyone, except the seals, of course.

Suddenly a few police officers walked into the tent and went over to Nathan, the ringmaster, who was trying to get the Mason twins to speed up their act. It was too long and the clowns, who came out after them didn't have enough time in the center ring. Clowns were popular in every town, but one: Gotham. The Joker had made clowns a sore subject and the clowns would usually just not go out in that city. They had been pelted with popcorn one year, and that had been the end of preforming in Gotham for the trip.

Tim could just make out that one of the offices was saying to Nathan, "We're looking for Timothy Drake."

Tim's stomach twisted into a knot. He hadn't thought anyone would come looking for him, but he had trashed the school before he left, a move he was beginning to regret. He should have just left, but he had spent a lot of time getting that spray paint into the school, and he had wanted to use it.

"What for?" Nathan asked. His voice was easier to hear. To be a ringmaster one had to shout all the time, and the man had become used to shouting at everyone to the point he never stopped.

"We were just told to find him," the officer answered. "They're looking for him in New Jersey." 'They' were obviously the police. Tim thought quickly. What had he done in New Jersey? Nothing came to mind, unless the police had caught on to his parents' illegal business and come looking for everything on the Drakes. He doubted it though. They were his parents, but he had thought that they would just send him right back to school, if the school even called them and if they took the time to try and find him.

He hadn't wanted them to worry if they did bother to worry about him, so he hadn't erased his search history and he left a poster for the circus up on his computer screen. It was easy to figure out where he had gone, and he had screamed something about going home the night before he went back to High Brook.

"Timothy!" Nathan shouted, looking up to the top of the massive tent.

The young acrobat at once jumped for the rope he had used to climb up. Tim slid down the piece of rawhide at an alarming rate. His hands were red by the time he got to the ground. From the looks Tim was getting, he guessed he had surprised the officers a little.

"Are you Timothy Drake?" the policeman who had been talking to Nathan asked.

"Yes," Tim answered shortly. He hoped he wasn't going to be sent back to High Brook. Tim wondered how much trouble he'd be in for the vandalism he had committed at the place that had been little better than a prison to him.

"I'm Officer Carle Deaton. I was sent here to see if you had gotten here okay after you left school," the man said shortly. Tim got the impression that there was more going on. "Someone will be here to pick you up soon."

Tim was surprised. Were his parents coming to get him? Maybe they had found out that he wasn't at school, and they had been worried. They didn't just care about money; he was sure of it. They missed being a family and they wanted to straighten things out too. The fight the three of them had had was probably the worst one over the past four years, and they must feel as bad as he did about the whole thing. Tim was actually excited to see them, something he hadn't been in years.

He went to his family's old trailer to get it cleaned up. Hudson, the owner/manager of the circus had kept it for them. He had been happy to see Tim when he showed up a week ago. Hudson hadn't asked any questions, he gave Tim the keys, and said they were all glad he was back for however long.

Tim wasn't a very good housekeeper, but he got the trailer looking the best he could. He didn't want it to be a mess when his mom saw it. She had always made the trailer feel homey. Tim knew his parents weren't very good at parenting, but they had tried. Tim could take care of himself for the most part, so that had made the situation easier. He loved them and they loved him. They just were bad at showing it.

A few hours passed and the Drakes' old home was almost spotless. Tim practically ran to the door when there was a loud knock. The thought didn't occur to him that his parents wouldn't have knocked. This was their old home, and they would have just walked in.

Tim opened the door, a smile on his face, but it was gone the moment he realized he didn't know the person waiting on the other side.

"Hello," the man said shortly. He seemed uncomfortable, and he was clearly out of his element. He was tall and had broad shoulders. It took Tim at second to recognize the man as Bruce Wayne. "Are you Timothy Drake?"

"Yes," Tim answered. That was the second time someone had asked that question that day. Why was everyone so worried about who he was?

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Mr. Wayne said. There was pity in his eyes.

That startled Tim. "What loss?" he asked. What was going on?

Wayne's frown deepened. "Would it be alright if I came in? There's something I have to tell you."

This was starting to scare Tim. Were his parents okay? What was happening? "Sure," he answered and stepped aside to let Wayne into his family's old home.

Wayne came inside and took a seat at the small restaurant booth Tim's parents had gotten for a dinner area. They had been passing an old restaurant that was being torn down on their way to Dallas. They had asked the owner for the booth. She had been happy to let them have it. It was one less thing for her to take to the dump.

Tim sat down across from Wayne. He was becoming more panicky inside. He pushed down everything that he felt. He had started doing that the first time his parents sent his away. It was the easiest way to deal with the hurt.

"Timothy, this is going to be hard to hear," Wayne paused a moment, unsure of how to break the news. "Your parents were killed last night."

Tim just looked at him. That wasn't possible? "So where are they?" he asked

"Tim, your parents are dead," Bruce said gently. He had thought the boy would have been told what had happened. He wished he wasn't the one having to tell him this.

"But they're coming to get me," Tim said. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. This was all in his head. It was just a bad dream.

"I'm so sorry," Bruce said. He wasn't sure if he was handling this right, but there wasn't exactly a right way to handle this. He hadn't had to be told his parents were dead. He hadn't had to tell Dick, and the Commissioner had been the one to tell Jason that his father was never coming back.

Tim was really panicking now. "No! They can't be dead!" he almost screamed. They had to come get him. They couldn't leave him forever, not after they had left him so often. They were supposed to come home and be a family again, like they were before that money ruined their lives.

"Timothy," Bruce said gently. "We're worried that the people who did this might try and get you. You need to pack your things and come with me."

Tim remember the first time he'd been sent away. It was the day after they had moved in it their new house. He'd been walking around by the woods near the house. He'd come inside and found his parents in their office. They had told him to go pack his things and that he was going to a school in New York. It hadn't been High Brook that time. He had gone up to his room without a word. He felt like crying, but he didn't. That would just annoy his parents more than they already had been.

Tim's jaw was locked as he got up and went over to his bed. He pulled out the old, wooden trunk. The trailer was cramped and they had had to do everything possible to make up for the lack of space.

He began to shove clothes into his pack back. Tim kept telling himself not to think. If he thought about what was happening, he would be sick. He found his old stuffed lion and buried it under his clothes. His parents hadn't liked stuffed toys for some reason. Tim guessed it was because they reminded them of the carnival games that gave circus people a reputation as cheats, gamblers and thieves. The end result was that Tim didn't have many toys.

Tim had finished packing, when he realized he didn't even know where he was going, or what was going to happen to him. He couldn't think about his parents. It was too horrible. He had to focus on what was going on right then or he would start crying, which he wouldn't let himself do. He looked over at Mr. Wayne. What was he doing here anyway? His parents hadn't been friends with Wayne that he could remember. They had said he was a goodie, goodie, meaning he wasn't in illegal business like they were. Tim knew they hadn't liked to be around people who weren't doing anything wrong. They felt guilty and they didn't feel as guilty surrounded by people who were doing the same things as them.

"Your parents wanted me to take care of you," Mr. Wayne said as if reading Tim's thoughts.

Tim nodded. That made sense. Jack and Cathie had talked about how wonderful Wayne was for taking in Richard and Jason. Richard was from the circus too. He wondered if the older boy was ashamed of that like Tim's parents had been. He hoped not. Jason was from the streets and the street kids of Gotham were known to be wild and tough. He didn't like the idea of being around someone who was a bully. He had put up with enough of that at High Brook. If Jason was mean, he could run away back to the circus. That door would always be open to him.

Tim stepped out of the trailer into the blinding sun. He looked up at the waving flags that were on top of the red and white circus tent. There was a cold breeze down on the ground, but up there it was stronger, strong enough to make the blue flags dance wildly. They seemed as if they were waving good-bye to him. Tim got the impression that it was going to be a very long good-bye.

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Timothy turned out to be a small eleven year old acrobat. Bruce hated having to tell him his parents were dead. He had seen the light go out of the boy's eyes when he told him. Bruce felt as if he was the one to cause it, but he wasn't. It was the fault of whoever had killed the Drakes. He was going to find the people who had done this. It didn't matter what hole he had to crawl down to find them. The Drakes would have their silencers caught, Tim would have justice for his family and Bruce would have satisfaction.

Bruce was driving down the road, back to Gotham. Tim had gone to sleep some time ago. Dick and Jason had had school that day and Tim didn't need to be surrounded by strangers when he got the news. Bruce had called Alfred to inform him of the changes that would take place by the time he returned home.

Bruce could picture the look on the butler's face. "Another one, sir?" Alfred questioned in a voice that said he wasn't surprised at all. Bruce had defended himself. It wasn't like the time he had called Alfred to pick him up and he had had a crying Dick in his arms or the time he pulled into the bat cave, Jason sitting in the bat mobile, telling the Dark Knight what he thought of him, which wasn't too nice in any sense of the word.

This child hadn't been his choice, but he was glad the Drakes had trusted him with their son. From what he had seen at the Drakes' house, they weren't doing a real great job. Bruce understood that some people loved their kids, but didn't know how to be a parent or even an adult for that matter. He knew no parent was perfect; he was far from it, but he expected people to at least try. Jack and Cathie clearly had stopped trying, and Timothy was the one paying for it.

Situations like this made Bruce think of the book, 'Frankenstein'. Victor gave his creation life and then he left it to die. As a result his family, friend and an innocent girl all ended up dead, because he couldn't put aside himself, and he wouldn't own up to his own actions. How many times did that happen in this day and age? So many parents were the Victors of life and their children were the unloved and unwanted creature, who turned to crime and murder. If people would raise their children and put off their own selfish wants, so many problems would vanish. There would always be troubles, but it would be better than the destroyed lives Bruce saw every night.

Tim stirred and woke. He looked around. "Where are we?" he asked shortly. There was tension in his voice that made Bruce think he was holding back tears. He had been surprised at Tim's reaction to his parents' deaths. Maybe the reality was still setting in. He had been upset, but most children cried when something like this happened.

"We're half an hour outside of Gotham," Bruce answered. He hated what he had to ask Timothy, but someone was going to have to. After all Batman was going to be investigating this and Tim could know something about his parents' murders and the fake documents Bruce had found.

"Tim, were you aware that your parents were forging tax statements?" Bruce asked.

"Yes," Timothy answered flatly. He was staring out the window at the sky that was starting to grow dark. "I knew they were working with Cobblepot and that they were stealing other peoples' tech."

"Do you think that had something to do with their deaths?" Bruce asked gently. Talking with victims no matter what the circumstances was hard, but this was worse. It was too close to home and the first rule of investigating a crime was not to let it get to you, but sometimes there were cases that just tore Bruce apart.

He understood how Tim must feel, but the boy's lack of emotion was beginning to make Bruce uneasy. He also understood that everyone dealt with pain and loss differently, and Tim's way was most likely to not deal with it. The grief would break him if he kept it up.

"Probably," Timothy said. There was a moment of silence. "We got into a pretty bad fight the night before I left." It was a simple statement, but Bruce got the impression Tim was trying to find someone to tell him it was okay and they hadn't been mad about the fight and everything else. At that moment Bruce was the only person who would be there for him. The Drakes didn't have any family or any friends they trusted.

"I'm sorry, Timothy," he said sincerely. "I understand what you're going through." Sometimes just having someone who understood was all it took to make things bearable.

Bruce had thoroughly looked into the Drakes background, and it was small wonder they had been killed. The questions was who had done it. The suspect pool ranged from Thorne, the drug dealer/business man to Oswald Cobblepott/the Penguin and everyone who worked for them was in there too. This was small chance the true killer would ever be found.

"I heard your parents were killed, too," Tim said. He was still looking out the window. "Did they ever catch the guy who did it?"

"No, they didn't," Bruce answered. His voice was harder than he meant it to be.

That put an end to the conversation. The vehicle was completely silent the rest of the drive. Bruce wished he knew what to say to help the orphaned boy, but saying the right thing had never been his strong point. Bruce knew he wasn't good with people. Sure he dated a lot, but those woman weren't interested in talking, they just wanted to be seen on Bruce Wayne's arm at some 'important' party. Once they had their moment in the spot light, they would be gone. Alfred wasn't much of a teacher when it came to people skills. The first person who Bruce really was able to talk with had been Dick and the little eight year old had done most of the talking.

They passed the Drake Mansion. Tim's head turned to look down at his hands as they went by. He didn't want to ever see that place again. It was one of the signs of the money that had led to his parents' deaths. What was it about money that changed people? It didn't change everyone, just some people, but why? It was like a poison to some, yet a gift to others. Tim would have been satisfied to live the rest of his life in his family's trailer, but his parents had had higher aspirations, ones that had nothing to do with a small, quiet, family.

Bruce stopped the car in front of Wayne Manor. He looked up at the old house. Ivy hung from the roof down over the front of the house, not in a forgotten way, but in a cared for and green homey way. It hadn't always felt that way. For years it held lonely misery for its two occupants, but Bruce had found himself in the Dark Knight, and that had lessened the pain for a time.

Tim got out of the car, his backpack over one shoulder. It looked like he'd be stuck here, until Mr. Wayne got sick of him like his parents had. He didn't expect Wayne to be any different than his parents. Why should he be? He had had his money handed to him on a silver platter from the moment he was born. If anything, the billionaire should be worse than the Drakes had been. Maybe Wayne would let him go back to the circus, and if he didn't, Tim could get there on his own. He'd done it before, after all.

"Dick and Jason will be home soon. Alfred's picking them up from school on his way home from the airport," Bruce said, just for the sake of having something to fill the awkward silence.

"Who's Alfred?" Tim asked. He knew who Dick and Jason were. Most people on the planet knew who they were and if someone didn't it was probably because they hadn't been near a TV, newspaper, or magazine for four years.

"He's the butler here. He keeps this place running," Bruce explained as the two of them walked into the mansion.

Tim's eyes flew around the foyer and the imperial staircase that was before him. He had thought his mom and dad's house had been too big, but it was nothing compared to Wayne Manor.

"I'll show you to your room," Bruce said walking up the stairs. Tim followed after him.

Bruce opened a door across from Dick's room, next door to Jason and across the hall and one room down from his own. Alfred's room was on the first floor. He said he liked to be where it was quiet, seeing as Bruce, Dick and Jason were always coming home from a night's patrol at the oddest hours. "I'll let you get settled," Bruce said as Tim walked into his new room.

"Thank you," Tim said and shut the door. The moment it was closed he almost fell to the floor, sobbing. He buried his face in his hands, trying to stay quiet. This was so unreal. It felt like he was watching this all unfold from the sidelines. His life had had its ups and down, but the downs hadn't been bad at all compared to this. To think he'd been shouting at his mom and dad only seven days ago. He'd give anything if he could go back and tell them he loved them. He would put up with the drunken laughter at three in the morning, the not telling him when they'd be back from wherever it was they were going and the endless wondering if they even loved him. If only he could go back and tell them how sorry he was for fighting and trying to make trouble so they would pay attention to him.

Why had this happened? What had they done that was so bad they deserved to die? They stole, lied, weren't good parents, and weren't very good people, but that didn't make it okay for someone to kill them in cold blood.

Still crying, Tim unpacked his bag. He sat down in a chair by a bookcase that ran the whole length of the wall. He would have picked out a book to read if his eyes hadn't been too watery to see out of. Tim held his old stuffed lion, High Wire in his lap. He had named it that because he'd gotten the lion the night of his first show. He'd walked the high wire that night without fear. He had felt so free that night as if he'd been walking on air. What he wouldn't give to go back to that night and stay there forever.

There was the sound of voices in the hall. Tim quickly wiped away his tears. He listened closely, but whoever was there wasn't coming to his room. He went to the bathroom and washed his face, trying to take the telltale redness away from his eyes. He didn't want the others to see how torn apart he was. He was grieving, and he was in a house full of strangers, and kind as they may or not be he didn't want to be around them.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick opened the front door. He was excited to meet his new 'brother', but Bruce stopped him and Jason from going up to the room they had gotten ready for the newest member of their patch work quilt family.

"Timothy's getting unpack, and I think he wants to be alone right now," Bruce explained. "I thought someone would have told him about Jack and Cathie before I got there, but that wasn't the case."

"He found out today?" Jason asked. If he was Timothy, he wouldn't want to be around anyone either. He had been in Timothy's place so he could sympathize. When Jason had first come to Wayne Manor he hadn't wanted anything to do with Bruce or Dick, but he had become more at ease after a few weeks.

"Yes," Bruce answered. He had to get some work done before sun down. Batman was needed on the Drake case. The police had made some progress since yesterday, but Bruce wasn't willing to wait on them. "Don't you have homework?" he asked. He knew the boys would stall as long as possible went it came to home work.

Jason huffed and Dick sighed. They both went off to their rooms to get their work done. If it wasn't done by nine o' clock they wouldn't be allowed to go on patrol with Bruce. Personally Bruce was annoyed with the school for how much homework they gave. The kids were spending eight hours a day in school, and then they had about three hours of homework. It was ridiculous. If this kept up, the school board would be hearing from him.

"Hello, sir," Alfred said coming into Bruce's office.

"Hello, Alfred. How was everyone back home?" Bruce asked. Alfred didn't talk about his family much. One got the feeling they weren't on the best of terms.

"As well as can be expected," Alfred said shortly. He didn't really consider the people he'd spent the last few days with family. Bruce was his son and Dick and Jason his grandsons. His family in England left much to be desired when it came to anything that meant family. He still went to see them every few years for the soul reason that… well, they were what God had given him for cousins and various other titles that were supposed to inspire some warm feelings, even if he had no idea why. Alfred left to get unpacked, and Bruce got back to work.

The next few hours passed in uninterrupted silence. It wasn't until dinner time that Bruce went up to Timothy's room. He knocked at the big oaken door. There was a pause before the door was opened.

"Yes," Timothy said shortly. His eyes were a little red as was his nose, but those were the only signs he'd been crying.

"It supper time. I didn't know if you were hungry or not," Bruce said gently. He hadn't been hungry for a long time after his parents were killed, but Alfred made him eat. The butler was very strict when it came to meal times.

Tim came out of his room. It was odd to think of it as 'his' room, but it would be for however long he was at Wayne Manor. There was something about this place that felt like a home. Tim couldn't put his figure on what made the Manor feel like that.

He followed Bruce down to the dining room. Tim was sure he'd get lost in this huge house if he tried to find his way around by himself. Richard and Jason were already seated at the long table.

"Hello, Tim. I'm Dick," Richard said smiling, but there was sympathy in his eyes. Almost as if he was saying that he understood.

"Hello," Tim said taking a seat. He felt as if he were intruding into this peoples' family, which he was, when he was honest with himself. It would be nice for this to be his home, for this to be his family. Maybe, just maybe, it could be. If he didn't mess it up, that is.

"Jason," the other boy said shortly. He had glanced up for a moment, but his gaze had gone back to the empty plate in front of him. Tim got the impression he was more uncomfortable than trying to be rude.

"Hello," Tim said again. He mentally scolded himself. These people were going to be his family if they liked him and he needed to make them like him. That wasn't his strong point however, but he had gotten Ben to at least put up with him. He could do the same with the Waynes.

A man in a suit came into the room through a different door. He had a tray, balanced on each hand. He set the food down in front of Bruce and took a seat across from Tim. He was in his fifties. He had a small neat mustache that reminded Tim of Mitch's and Kate's father. The man was retired, but he still traveled with his children.

"Tim, this is Alfred. He keeps thing running around here," Bruce said introducing the butler. For that was clearly what he was.

"It is good to meet, Master Timothy," Alfred said politely.

"It's good to meet you, too," Tim said, just as politely. He hoped he wasn't making them hate him.

"How was school?" Bruce asked Dick and Jason.

"Fine," Jason said shortly. He hadn't punched anyone so there was nothing to report. He didn't really mind school. He was smart, too smart for his own good in his teachers' opinions, and he liked to learn. It was the sitting for hours on end that drove him up a tree. The teachers had stopped telling him to please sit still. They were sure to find a pin on their seats the next day if they did. They couldn't prove Jason was the one responsible, even if they knew it was him.

"Good," Dick answered. "We're reading Gone with the Wind in language. I think I liked it better the first time I read it."

"Why's that?" Bruce asked.

"Because the first time I read it I kept thinking Scarlett would start acting like an adult and Ashley would tell her he wasn't interested," Dick answered. Scarlett O'Hara was one of the most annoying people in any book he'd ever read, and Ashley was an emotionless baby, who wouldn't just tell Scarlett to back off because he was being a 'gentleman'.

"People don't usually change once their characters are set," Bruce said shortly. He wasn't just talking about stories. It was hard for people to change once they reached a certain age.

Dick shrugged. "I still don't like anyone in the book."

"What about Rhett or Aunt Pitty Pat or Melanie?" Tim asked. He had read a lot of books. In some ways the characters were more real to him than the people around him. He could sympathize with them and their problems. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer was his favorite book.

The five of them talked over books for the rest of supper. Jason had watched more of the book to movie adaptations. He didn't like to read as much as Dick and Alfred did. Bruce read not for the story, but for the knowledge of the classics that was needed in high class situations that he had no choice but to attend.

Tim went back up to his room as soon as he could. It wasn't that he didn't want to be around Wayne, his sons and the butler, it was just that he was scared he'd say something wrong. It seemed sometimes as if the sole purpose of his life was to avoid situations that would make people not like him. He knew he couldn't get the approval of his parents or his teacher or the other kids at school, but he still wanted it. Why did it matter what people thought of him? What was so great about being liked? It wasn't like anyone who took the time to see he stuck about for long. So why did he care? Tim wished he didn't care, but how he felt wasn't going to change.

Tim laid on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was surprised that Wayne really seemed to care about what his sons were learning. He guessed this must be normal, but how was he to know that? His parents hadn't been interested in anything other than money. He understood them to some extent. They had had next to nothing most of their lives that when they finally had a little, they needed more. They couldn't go back to the circus so they had put their minds to one thing and one thing alone.

Tim closed his eyes. He was tired and he had a headache. He wished he could change what he had said to his parents that night. How could he have yelled at them like that? It wasn't his place to judge their actions. Tim laid there for a long time before drifting off to sleep. He was plagued by dreams all night. All of them ended with a dark figure shooting down his mom and dad in their home.

Sometime in the night he heard voices in the hall, but he was just falling asleep again and didn't bother to try and listen to what was being said. One of the voices was Bruce and other could have been Jason or Dick, but Tim wasn't sure.

There was a loud knock at the door, jarring Tim awake. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Eight thirty, he almost never slept that long. He quickly got up and answered the door. It was Jason.

"Hey, just came to see if you wanted some breakfast," Jason said shortly. There was a bruise on his left check that hadn't been there last night. It looked like someone had hit him, but who would have done that? Maybe Jason and Dick had been goofing off and the younger of the two had gotten hit. Tim seriously hoped that was the case.

"Thanks. I'll be down in a minute," Tim said and shut the door. He got dressed and went down to the dining room to find that everyone else had already eaten. Bruce had had to go to see a lawyer about something that couldn't wait. Alfred was going to run to the store. It seemed Bruce didn't go to get groceries the whole time he was away. The butler was quit disgusted at the condition his kitchen was in. It was Saturday, so Dick and Jason didn't have school.

"You want a tour of the Manor?" Dick asked once Tim had finished his meal. Dick wanted Tim to like living at the Manor. He already considered him a little brother, but if Tim wasn't happy at the Manor, Bruce would send him where he would be happy. That was the deal Bruce had made with Dick and Jason before they had been adopted. After the paper work went through they were stuck with Bruce for good. At least that was how the billionaire had put it. He had been on edge both times he had to sit and wait for the call from his lawyer that everything went through. There was more than one way to lose someone you loved and Bruce had been terrified that someone wouldn't think he would be a good parent.

Jason and Dick showed Tim all around the Manor. It took them a long time to go through it all, but they did. Tim was even surer than he had been that he would get lost if he tried to find his way around alone. The whole place felt similar to museum and from listening to Dick talk it practically was one.

"What do you think?" Dick asked when they returned to the dining room which was where they had started.

"It's big," Tim said. He didn't know really what to say. He never knew what to say to people that was why he liked books so much. When he read a book it wasn't like the characters were going to bother him with questions. He didn't have to think of what to say or how to act.

Dick laughed. "We're going to give a prize to the first person who doesn't say it's big."

"Sorry," Tim said. What he was apologizing for Tim didn't know, but saying the Manor was big apparently wasn't the wanted response.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Jason said. "Dick gave me a hard time about that too."

"How could I not? You just walked around with your mouth open," Dick pointed out.

Jason shrugged then turned to Tim. "You want to watch a movie or something?" He didn't know how he felt about Tim, yet. In a way he felt replaced, but Dick had seen that last night and told Bruce, who quickly explained that Jason was not being replaced. He was an important part of the family just like everyone else. Dick had said he had felt that way when Bruce brought Jason home, but he had seen that wasn't true after having Jason there for a few days. So Jason had spent all of last night's patrol feeling like Woody from Toy Story for nothing. He had been so distracted with self-pity that he ended up not seeing a thug who was supposed to be unconscious. The thief had hit him a few times before Jason could take him down. Which was why he had a bruised face.

"Sure," Tim answered. They went to the family room and then began the most argue over subject in history: What movie to watch? Dick wanted to see The Shining, but he didn't think Bruce would be okay with him watching it with Jason and Tim there. Jason liked The Pirates of the Caribbean, but they had just watched that not too long ago. Tim suggested The Hobbit which was what they ended up watching.

When Bruce got home he found the three of them sprawled out over the family room. Dick and Jason never could sit still for long and it looked as if Timothy was the same way. Dick was sitting on the top of the back of the couch. Jason was on the floor, just a few feet in front of the screen and Tim was perched on the armrest of the couch.

Alfred would have a fit if he saw them. The floor wasn't for sitting on and it wasn't necessary to be an inch from the screen. They had had Jason's eyes checked when they saw him watching TV like that, but it turned out he could see fine. He just liked to sit close to the screen and on the floor. The couches weren't a jungle gym and weren't to be treated as such.

"How are we doing?" Bruce asked. He thought for a moment what it would be like to come home and have no one there waiting for him. He didn't much like the idea. It would be too quiet and lonely.

"Good," Dick answered and pulled his eyes from the TV for a moment to smile at Bruce before he went back to the movie.

"Pause the movie a minute. I want to talk with Tim," Bruce said. He went to his office, followed by Tim. Bruce sat down at his desk. Tim sat down across from him. Bruce had gotten some leads last night and he had been to see the Commissioner while he was in the city. There was little doubt Cobblepot was the one who had killed the Drakes and the word on the street was he had done it himself. For Penguin this meant it was personal. He was sending a message to anyone who would cross him. Batman thought he might come after Timothy, but it was unclear at this point.

"Yes?" Tim asked. He had forgotten for a little while. It wasn't that he didn't care, it was just that Jason and Dick had been trying to keep him busy so he wouldn't have to think about what had happened not too far down the road.

"Timothy, are you aware that your parents left their company in my care as long as you live here?" Bruce asked. Drake Industries wasn't his main concern. His concern was what Tim wanted. He didn't want to keep him at Wayne Manor if he didn't want to be there. It was close the place where his parents had been killed. Bruce actively avoided Park Row, where his parents had been gunned down, so if Timothy wanted to live somewhere else he could understand that.

"I knew they wanted you to take over the company, but I didn't know there were any conditions," Tim answered. His parents had always been manipulative, but this was about all he could take. What could have put into their minds to set up an arrangement like that?

If Bruce wanted the company, he could have it for all Tim cared, but it was the way his parents had made things. What if Timothy wanted to leave? That would make it impossible for Wayne to keep Drake Industries. So he was here because Bruce wanted Drake Industries. That made sense, only why did he need Drake Industries too? He had Wayne Enterprises, Wayne Tech, Wayne Labs, Wayne Cosmetics, Wayne Sciences and Wayne Industries. Tim guessed it was most likely a greed thing. He could see how that kind of money would get anyone's attention. He wished his mom and dad had left him out of their business deals. He wasn't something to bargain with.

"I'm sorry my parents put you in this position," Tim said shortly. He wondered how this plan had even come into existence. It was probably that night they had nearly gotten in a wreck on their way home from a party. They had both been a little shaken by the whole thing. Tim thought he had heard his dad mention getting things in order shortly after that.

"It's okay, Tim," Bruce said. How was he supposed to ask if Timothy wanted to stay there? He would feel as if he didn't have any choice and no house could be a home if someone thought they were there because of money and if he suggested the possibility of Timothy going back to a boarding school, he would think Bruce didn't want him around. Bruce didn't want to do that to Tim. He saw how Tim talked and carried himself. He clearly had problems with self-esteem and abandonment issues. The whole situation wasn't helping at all.

"I think it would be best if Drake Industries remained in your name. I would see to its management until you are old enough to take care of it," Bruce began. This was not the conversation most kids had after a death in the family, but Bruce had had this conversation with Lucius Fox and someone was going to have to talk to Tim. Bruce didn't want it to be his parents' lawyer. The man wasn't very sympathetic, but he was doing his job to the best of his ability. Which was pretty impressive with the mess the Drakes had left him with.

Tim looked a little surprised. "Don't you want it? I know it's not at big as Wayne Enterprises, but it's still big." So Wayne didn't want Drake Industries enough to keep him around. That was what he got for starting to think maybe he could live there.

Great. Now Timothy thought Bruce didn't want him to stay at the Manor. He knew this would happen. Some day he was going to figure out how to talk to people without them thinking all he cared about was money. He just talked about business because he could control the conversation. People's emotions were not something he was comfortable with. It was like walking through a mine field, which he had done before.

"It's not that," Bruce said a little too shortly. He saw Tim jump. Wow, Bruce, just wow. Not only did Timothy think he was unwanted, but Bruce was clearly scaring him. He took a deep breath. "I don't need Drake Industries, but if you want you are welcome to live here at the Manor." That wasn't so hard. Why couldn't he have just said that in the first place? "Jason and Dick weren't sure if they wanted to stay here at first so we set up a trial basis. Dick took a few weeks to decide and Jason waited until his time was almost up to decide," Bruce continued. If he didn't shut up soon he would start rambling and then he and Tim would be sitting there all day.

Tim looked down at his hands. This was insane. His parents had been killed three days ago and here he was supposed to decide on where he was going to live. He shouldn't have to be thinking about that right now. "How long do I have to decide?" he asked.

"Three months, same as Dick and Jason," Bruce answered. It wasn't that he wanted to put Timothy in a bad position; it was just that with all that was involved he needed to know what was going on. People were depending on Drake Industries for their pay checks and Bruce had to get that taken care of, so Batman could work.

"I'll try to decide quickly," Tim said looking back up at Bruce. There were a few things he wanted to ask Dick and Jason before he picked whether to stay at the Manor or not. Bruce seemed like a really nice man and he looked to everyone like a great dad, but there were some things that had to be taken into consideration when making a decision that was this important. Tim was surprised what he wanted was being thought about. He assumed that he would have even less say in his own life than he did before.

"Take your time, there's no rush," Bruce cleared his throat. "Is there anything you would like to get from your house?" The police had gotten everything they needed from the mansion. Tim would be allowed to go in and get anything he needed.

"Is it okay to go there?" Tim asked. He didn't think people were allowed to take things from a crime scene. Wouldn't that break the evidence chain?

Bruce explained that the police were done at the house. No one was supposed to go there unless they had permission which Bruce had since the estate had been moved to his name.

"There are some things I would like to get," Tim said cautiously. He didn't want to take Bruce from his work. The man was obviously very busy and Tim's mom and dad hadn't like to be interrupted once they got started working.

"Would you like to go today?" Bruce asked. He didn't know if it was too soon for Tim to be in that house. Everyone was different when it came to dealing with a loss.

Tim nodded. He wanted to get his things and get out of that place. It was like some giant monster that had helped to destroy his parents. He had been in the Drake Mansion for maybe a week at the longest while his parents lived there, so it wasn't really home to him.

"Let's go then," Bruce said getting up. "I'm sure Dick and Jason won't mind waiting a little longer to finish the movie."

A few minutes later Bruce and Tim were walking down the road to the Drake Mansion. The house hadn't changed since the last time Tim had been there, except that a large piece of the carpet had been cut out of the living room floor and there were a few bullet holes in the walls. The bullets themselves had been removed, but the marks were there, plain for all to see.

Tim got out of that part of the house as quickly as possible. He would have been at the house that night if he and his parents hadn't gotten into that fight. Could he have done something to stop them from getting killed? Probably not, but he would always wonder.

"I'll wait here," Bruce said stopping at the foot of the stairs. He didn't want to intrude. Tim most likely wanted some space and having Bruce looking over his shoulder would probably be less than helpful.

Tim nodded and silently went up the stairs. He went in to his room. There wasn't much there that was important to him. He took most of what mattered to him with him when he left. A few pictures and some souvenirs he'd picked up in Paris, Moscow, Cairo and other countries the circus had stopped in were all he had to get.

Bruce stood at the bottom for the stair for fifteen minutes before he started to get worried. He went up the stairs after Tim. Bruce found Tim in the boy's bedroom, by an old trunk, crying. Bruce was by his side in a moment. Tim realized he was there and tried to stop his tears but couldn't.

Tim had been sitting there looking at a few of the pictures he and his parents had taken over the years and everything just came crashing down on him at once. He was alone and scared. The words he had shouted at his parents echoed in his ears and he couldn't tell them he hadn't meant any of the things he had said.

"It's okay, Tim. I'm here. You're not alone," Bruce said gently. How many times had he said the same things to Dick and Jason? How could people cause some much pain? It wasn't hard to leave other people alone. It was a choice that people made and they didn't seem to care when others paid the price for their actions. Cobblepot was going to be in a lot of pain before Batman was done with him.

Tim buried his face in his hands. He had tried to keep it together, but he couldn't any more. Why did he have to be okay? He had lost his family. He should be able to mourn without worrying that he would upset his new guardian. His world had come crashing down all around him and there was nothing he could do, but stand by and watch. This wasn't fair, but who said life was supposed to be fair? It may not be fair, but whoever did this would face the consequences. Tim was sure of that. His parents' killer couldn't just walk away Scott-free. That would make this a thousand times more unbearable and Tim didn't think he could handle much more as it was.

The two of them sat on the floor for a long time. Bruce held Tim in his arms and listened to his new son sob. Or at least Bruce hoped 'new son'. He wondered what he could do to help Tim. Bruce had locked himself in his room after his parents were killed, Dick had clung to him like a life line his first weeks at the Manor and Jason had wanted to be alone for a little while. So what did Timothy need? He probably just needed someone to be there when he broke down. He didn't seem to like it when other people saw him cry, but he clearly wanted to be told it was going to be okay.

After a while Tim dried his tears. "Sorry," he said in a whisper. Bruce was a busy man, he didn't have time to deal with a crying kid. Tim quickly gathered up his things, careful not to look at the pictures. That's what had set him crying in the first place.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Tim," Bruce said as they walked out of the room. "I want to be there for you. I was lucky enough to have Alfred when I lost my parents. Dick had me and Alfred and Jason had the three of us and you have all of us. We are here to help you and there's nothing wrong with crying."

They were out of the mansion and head back up the road to the Manor. Tim was silent except for the occasional loud sniff. He was thinking about Bruce and what he had said. The billionaire had lost his parents in a similar situation. He must understand. Maybe that's why he had adopted Dick and Jason. They were all victims of violence.

Bruce was very different from Tim's parents. He didn't push Tim away or get annoyed at the Drake mansion. He really seemed to want to help, but what was he getting out of it? The company would stay in Tim's name and it would be his once he turned eighteen, so the answer was nothing. Then that must mean Bruce really cared. Tim felt suddenly safe and a little okay at this conclusion.

He wanted to stay at Wayne Manor. He had only been there been there a day and a half, but he could see that it was more of a home than anywhere else he had lived. Bruce wanted him to be okay with the loss of his parents. Okay was as good as anyone could be after something like that. Dick tried to get him to smile and forget for a while. Jason was clearly trying to make Tim comfortable at the Manor and Tim got the impression that for the older boy this was a big step in accepting anyone he met. Alfred, though Tim hadn't seen much of him, gave the impression that he was there if Tim needed anything, even if it was just someone to talk to. The four of them were a family and they wanted Tim to be part of that family.

Tim almost smiled at that thought. The Waynes reminded him of the circus. They were from all walks of life, and yet they fit together. All they needed to really be a circus were some costumes, some animals and an act. Little did he know of the bat suit that hung in a cave below his feet, or the bats flew around the cave or the Guardians of Gotham that risked their lives very night.

"Bruce, I think I've made a decision," Tim said suddenly. They had reached the front door by now.

Bruce stopped in his tracks. He hadn't thought Tim would decide so soon. He was honestly scared. He had been terrified when Dick came to his office one morning with the same announcement and Jason, who had said he wanted to stay out of nowhere while they were driving home from a bad day at school. He had probably thought he should decide before Bruce got tired of dealing with his fighting.

"Okay," Bruce said looking down at Tim. "What have you decided?"

"I want to live here," Tim said and opening the front door, he went inside. Dick and Jason were most likely tired of waiting for him.

Bruce smiled. Three sons. He and Alfred were outnumbered now. He pulled out his phone and called his lawyer. The sooner the papers went through the better Bruce would feel. He didn't much like the adoption process. It was too complicated and if he wasn't rich, he never would have been able to become an adoptive father.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne. What can I do for you today" Betty Claymore asked. She was with Claymore and Evans. It was the best law firm in Gotham or anywhere else for that matter. Betty was Calvin Claymore's daughter. She was very serious about her work and did the best she could with every client.

"Hello, Ms. Claymore. I'd like to file for adoption for Timothy Drake," Bruce said. He was still standing at the front door. He couldn't stop smiling. He would have to get himself to stop before he went out that night. How would it look if Batman was smiling while he took down criminals? They would probably think the Dark Knight had lost his mind, not that that they didn't think that already, but still.

"Again?" Betty asked and quickly recovered. It wasn't any of her business. She was just a little surprised. Most people didn't adopt again after they had gone through the tortures of the system once. But here was Bruce Wayne going in for a third battle. He must really care about his children to do this, Betty thought. Being a lawyer she saw the sides of people they didn't show to others and Wayne was not how he made people see him. He was not shallow or careless. He cared deeply about his sons and would do anything for them.

Betty had handled the paperwork for Richard and Jason. Richard's adoption had been the worst one she had every dealt with. The boy had been in the U.S without the proper papers. He had had no idea about where he had been born or anything like that. Betty had been tempted to quit once it was over. Then Mr. Wayne had called again wanting another adoption. After Betty had gotten off the phone with the man, she had sat at her desk trying not to cry. Jason's adoption had been easier, but not by much. She was hopeful this time it went smoothly. Third time was the charm, right?

"Yes, again, Ms. Claymore," Mr. Wayne said. "I'm sure it will be much easier this time. Tim is in the U.S legally and he doesn't have a criminal record. Oh, wait, he maybe in some trouble in New York, but I don't think it will cause any problems."

"I'm sure it will fine," Betty said. She hoped Wayne couldn't hear the sound of her head hitting her desk over and over again.

"Well, thanks. Let me know when I have to come down to sign the paperwork," Bruce said. He wondered if the dull thudding sound he was hearing was the lawyer's head hitting something. The poor woman must really hate him.

"You're welcome and I will," Claymore said and hung up.

Bruce went into the house. He could hear the boys talking loudly in the living room. It sounded like Tim had told them the news.

Alfred was standing in the door way of the kitchen. "I heard Master Tim will be becoming a permanent resident of the Manor." There was a smile in the butler's eyes. He had known the minute Tim stepped into the house, the boy would be staying.

Bruce nodded. "It's two to three Alfred. What will we do?" he laughed.

"Sir, I was outnumbered years ago. You are just was wild as any of them," Alfred pointed out. "I hope you realize that you will have to inform Master Timothy of the Batman's true identity."

Bruce nodded. "I know, but I would like to wait a bit. Let him get settled in first." He hadn't had to tell Dick, he found out. Jason had known from the beginning. So how was he supposed to tell Tim? He would figure that out later, there was no rush.

"I would advise you not to wait too long, sir. He will see that you and the young masters are hiding something from him. More importantly families do not keep secrets of this nature, "Alfred said shortly. It would be better just to tell Timothy now. This was going to be his home, too. He had a right to know what was going on under the Manor.

"I'm going to tell him, just not right now," Bruce said. He didn't like anyone knowing who the Batman was. It took away some of the security that he went so far to keep. What if Tim couldn't keep his mouth shut? That was something Bruce had wondered about the Justice League when they learned who he was.

He had trusted Dick with the secret and he had known Jason wouldn't tell anyone. What about Tim? The boy had never told a soul about his parents illegal business so he could keep a secret, besides who would he tell? Tim had no friend other than the circus and no family. Bruce would tell him within the next couple of weeks.


	4. Chapter 4

Tim loved living at the Manor. Some days were still hard, but he tried not to think about what had happened. Bruce said it was better to remember the good times Tim had had with his parents. It did help and Tim was able to pass the Drake Mansion without looking away. He had asked Bruce if it could be sold. There was a large for sale sign at the front entrance, now.

Oswald Cobblepot pled guilty to the two murders. He didn't even try to make a deal. Everyone said that the Batman, Nightwing, and Red Hood had scared the man so bad, he wanted to go to prison for his own safety. Which was true, of course. The three had hurt and hounded him until he turned himself in.

Tim wanted to meet the Dark Knight so he could thank him, but there was little chance of that happening. Half the city probably wanted to thank Batman, but he never stared long enough for them to tell him and his partners how much they appreciated what they did.

Bruce, Dick and Jason were always showing up to the breakfast table with a few bruises. One morning Bruce didn't come gone at all. Alfred said he was sick, but something didn't seem right with that story. Bruce had come down the next morning just fine, but when Tim went to hug him, the man had flinched hard as if he was in pain.

Tim had asked Dick and Jason for an explain for all this, but they had just said to ask Bruce. So that's what Tim was doing. He was sitting in Bruce's office waiting for him to get home for work.

The door was opened and Bruce walked in. Normally Tim, Dick and Jason would go to meet him at the front door, when he got home from work. So Bruce knew at once that something was bothering his son and he had a pretty good idea what it was. He didn't want to tell Tim who Batman was. The eleven year old would want to join in as a member of the Bat family and Bruce was terrified of that happening. It wasn't a game, it was dangerous. Dick nearly got killed on a regular basis, and only last month Joker had tried to kill Jason. Luckily, the clown had gotten killed in a shot out with the police and the city was free for him.

Bruce had tried to stop Dick and Jason from putting on masks, but both of them had tried to go fight crime on their own. If they were going to fight, Bruce was going to do everything he could to make sure they were safe while they were out on the streets.

"Is everything alright, Tim?" Bruce asked, setting his brief case on his desk. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation.

"No," Tim said shortly. He looked down at his hands. How was he supposed to ask this? "How do you, Dick and Jason get hurt? And don't say you're working on something. Jason already tried to sell me on that lie," Tim said.

Bruce was silent for a moment. "That wasn't a lie, we are working." He was avoiding this and he shouldn't be. It would make things easier if Tim knew. "Timothy, what I'm going to tell you I never want you to repeat to anyone. Are we clear?"

Tim nodded. He was just glad he was finally going to be getting some answers. He had an idea what was going on, but it seemed a little too wild to be true.

"I'm the Batman," Bruce said after a second. He half excepted Tim to laugh at him, but if that happened he could always take him done to the Batcave.

"Figured that's what was going on," Tim said shortly. "Can I see the Batcave?"

Of all the people Bruce had told who he was he had never gotten that response. He couldn't help smiling. "Sure. Let's get Dick and Jason. They wanted to show you around the cave your first week here."

A little while later the four of them were headed down to the Batcave. Tim was in awe of it all. Everyone had their own ideas of what Batman's hide out was like, but none of them did justice to the massive cave. Bats flew about the ceiling of the cave, waiting for night. Their calls bounced and echoed off the walls. The gear and computer system were the most advanced Tim had ever seen. There was a small alcove near where the Batmobile was parked that looked like a hospital room with rock walls of course.

That reminded Tim of how Bruce had been badly hurt a few days before. What if something happened to his family? He couldn't lose them, not after everything that had happened.

"What happened that day you stayed in bed?" Tim asked, looking up at Bruce.

Bruce sighed. "I got shot. My suit protected me from the worst of it, but Alfred insisted I rest," he explained. He didn't want Tim worrying, but that was unavoidable. He had been to doing this since he was twenty years old. He could handle whatever Gotham threw at him and the same went for Dick and Jason.

"Reinforce Kelvin?" Tim asked. He had heard that Wayne Tech was working on a light weight, flexible bullet proof material for the army. That must be how Batman had all that high tech that everyone was always talking about. What better place to get advanced gear than from Bruce's own company?

Bruce nodded. He could see where this was going and he didn't like it.

"So you're pretty much bullet and knife proof?" Tim asked.

"Yes," Bruce said shortly. Here it came.

"I want to help," Tim said. There it was.

"Absolutely not," Bruce said. Why did his sons want to do this? He knew that answer of course. They had been victims and they didn't want anyone else to go through what they had been through. Plus they looked up to him and wanted to be like him. Bruce wished they didn't want anything to do with the Batman side of his life.

Dick and Jason both slipped away. They had an idea how this was going to go and they didn't want to be around if it got ugly. They had had already had their fights with Bruce about this. If Tim was smart about it things would go his way.

"You let Dick and Jason put on masks, so why can't I?" Tim asked crossing his arms.

"Dick and Jason have been trained," Bruce answered.

"So train me. I've been an acrobats since I was seven, I'm almost as good as Dick," Tim shout back. Dick had shown him a few tricks since he had come to the Manor. Bruce had gotten a lot of trapeze equipment for Dick when he first came to live there.

"Almost as good gets you killed," Bruce snapped. He wouldn't lose one of his sons to this life. It was dangerous, Tim had to understand that. "Besides you're only eleven."

"How old were Dick and Jason when they started fighting crime?" Tim asked. He wasn't giving up that easily. Batman protected people. It didn't matter what they had done, he wouldn't let someone kill another person if he could stop it. If Batman had known that Tim's parents were in trouble the Dark Knight would have done what he could.

Bruce's jaw clicked shut. He should have seen that coming. "Dick was nine and Jason was ten."

"So why can't I help you?" Tim pushed.

Bruce didn't have an answer for that. He made multimillion dollar deals, he should be able to outsmart an eleven year old, but the problem was he didn't have a good augment for this. There was no reason Tim shouldn't join the Batfamily.

"If you are going to do this your better be ready to fight harder than you think you can," Bruce said seriously.

Tim's face brightened.

"This isn't a game. It's your life and the lives of others on the line. If you mess up people could die," Bruce said. Maybe there was a chance he could scare Tim out of this.

"I understand," Tim answered.

"Don't even think you'll be going out there until you've been trained," Bruce continued. Tim might quit under the pressure of the training. He had thought Dick and Jason would quit too after everything he had put them thought before he let them leave the Batcave. He had hoped they would quit, but they had stuck to it.

Tim nodded. He couldn't wait to get out there and help people. To stop criminals and watch his families' backs was what he wanted to do. Maybe that would help him find some peace knowing that he was preventing others from losing their families like he had lost him. That was the reason Bruce, Dick and Jason did what they did and that would be his reason as well.

A few months later Red Robin appeared on the streets of Gotham. He was as strong as Red Hood, as graceful as Nightwing and as clever as Batman.

The End


End file.
